


trick or treat?

by rory_kent



Series: sherlock and his daddy [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Daddy Kink, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nail Polish, Older John, Safewords, Subspace, Sugar Daddy John Watson, Twink Sherlock, Unilock, Virgin Sherlock Holmes, kitten play, kitten sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24501253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rory_kent/pseuds/rory_kent
Summary: what a sweet, innocent little kitten...
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: sherlock and his daddy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767892
Comments: 18
Kudos: 128





	trick or treat?

**Author's Note:**

> just a little halloween ficlet!  
> pretty smutty too  
> hope this fic finds you well! <3

Sherlock stretched wide as he awoke, yawning and throwing his head back. His eyes flicked over to the clock by their bed.  _ 8:34.  _ He searched around for daddy, but the bed was empty and cold. He sat up quickly, only to find a note on the nightstand. 

_ Morning kitten. I got called in early, breakfast is waiting and I expect you to eat it. Have a nice day at school, try and be good. I’ll see you tonight. -daddy _

Sherlock sighed and clambered out of bed, scouring the floor for his shirt, which he had,  _ lost track of _ last night. He pulled the oversize t-shirt over his shoulders, loving how the hem just barely covered his arse. It had begun to smell less and less strongly of John as Sherlock wore it more than he did. He sauntered to the kitchen and eyed the plate of beans, toast and vegan sausage. The idea of eating at all made him want to throw up. He picked up the plate and took it to the bathroom, pouring it’s contents into the toilet and flushing. His stomach turned, both from repulsion and guilt. Daddy had told him to eat. But, what if, what if Sherlock ate so much that daddy couldn’t carry him? Or his shirts wouldn’t be so loose? Sherlock shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to calm his breathing. Eventually he made it back to his and daddy’s room, stepping into the closet. Daddy had cleared half for Sherlock, but his meager possessions made half the spacious closet pitifully empty. They were going to go shopping that weekend, daddy said, but the thought made him even more nauseous. He quickly slid on pants and his black denims, pulling one of daddy’s dark blue jumpers over his head. He went back into the sitting room, collecting his laptop and textbooks into his bag, tucking his scarf around his neck and heading outside. 

His first class was  _ so  _ boring. Electrochemistry was primary school stuff for him. He barely paid attention to his professor, focusing instead on his classmates. Dull, mostly. 75% male, 22% female, 3% other. 15 chem majors. 14 biology. 17 pre-med. Soon the little hand hit the 6 and the dull professor said “class dismissed.” Sherlock flipped his head back, groaning. The girl next to him bit her lip and stifled a giggle as she packed her notes away. Sherlock’s eyes instantly shot over, a blush creeping over his cheeks. 

“What’s so funny?” He said defensively, crossing his arms. 

“Oh, nothing,” She smiled, pausing before adding, “it’s only you’re clearly the smartest one here, but you act like this class is torture.”

“ _ It is torture.  _ I’m so bored.” Sherlock gave her an evaluating glance, swallowing his nerves. “I’m Sherlock” She laughed and he blushed even more, feeling somewhat patronized. 

“I know,” She smiled wide, “I’m Molly.” Sherlock couldn’t help but smile back. 

“You’re pre-med, aren’t you?” 

“Forensic Pathologist,” Sherlock’s ears perked and he raised his eyebrows. 

“Forensics? As in crime solving?” 

“Autopsies. Finding out why people die.” Something in her eyes flickered sad and Sherlock bit his lip. Clearly some sort of sob-story there, best to move on. 

“Do you want to have coffee?”

“That sounds lovely.” 

Molly was officially Sherlock’s favorite classmate. Pity there had been no girls at his public school- they were such better company. They had coffee together before Sherlock walked Molly to the cadaver lab. Molly wasn’t as fascinating as John, in fact, she was actually quite normal. But something, something about the way she thought reminded Sherlock of himself. Besides, she didn’t interrupt his deductions and so far hadn’t used the word  _ freak, weirdo, dickhead  _ or  _ arsehole _ to describe him. 

“Do you live on campus?” Fair question. Molly was a junior. Sherlock was a freshman. He shook his head. 

“I live with my da- I, uh, I live with John.” Sherlock detested the way the word  _ John  _ sounded in his voice. Disrespectful, plain, as if he wasn’t the most powerful, bravest, kindest man in the world. 

“Is he your boyfriend?” Molly raised her eyebrows, but Sherlock nodded. “You should come to Irene’s party tonight! Do a couples costume or something,” 

“Who’s Ire-wait, why would we wear a costume?”

“It’s halloween, silly,” She smiled. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows as they stopped in front of the morgue. 

“Right..well, I’m not sure John would be interested in a party.”

“What kind of uni student doesn’t like parties?” Molly scoffed, “Even I like them occasionally.”

“He’s not a student. He’s a doctor.” Sherlock said quickly, rubbing his arm, eyes locked on the ground. 

“Oh, I see.” Molly bit her lip, “Well, here’s my number, we should hang out sometime.” Sherlock nodded and took the slip of paper, turning and heading to his next class. He hated that he had sounded so ashamed of John. He wished he could run back to the morgue and explain to Molly how wonderful and kind and gentle his daddy was. 

John had given him so much, taken such good care of him, and Sherlock never did anything for him. They hadn’t even had sex properly yet. Sherlock’s stomach turned with anxiety. What if John got bored? What if Sherlock wasn’t enough? His conversation with Molly stuck in his mind all through his wretched English Literature lecture. His brain churned through all these complicated emotions, desperately trying to work out what to do, how to be good enough for John. Then an idea flashed and he jumped, ignoring the stares and admonishment of his professor as he rushed out of class, pushing the double doors open. He had some shopping to do. 

John exhaled deeply, scrubbing his face as he leaned on his desk, drowning in a sea of paperwork and patient reports. He checked his watch. 5:34. Before, he would’ve kept going ‘till 7. But with a troublesome little boy back at the flat all by himself, now that was a perfect excuse to turn in. He stood up, slipping his suit jacket on and packing his briefcase before popping his head in his secretaries office. 

“Off out, Janet, feel free to go home.”

“Yes sir, have a nice night,” He scrunched his nose at the halo-headband she had tucked next to her tight bun. “What’s that?”

“Oh!” She quickly took it off and blushed, “me and the other girls from work are having a little costume contest,” John nodded, he almost forgot it was the 31st. He gave her a curt smile and headed home. He pulled into the car park a few minutes later, pulling off his driving gloves and smiling. Coming home to a sweet little boy that was all his? Nothing better in the world. He headed up to his flat and turned the key, eyes widening at the sight in front of him. 

The lights were dim, a plethora of black candles on the window sills and tables, leading a trail from the sitting room to the hallway and to the slightly ajar bedroom door. John licked his lips, an excited warmth filling his gut. He pulled off his tie and jacket, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt and grinning. He very slowly walked to the decanter, purposefully making noise, teasing his boy who was undoubtedly waiting for him in the bedroom. He poured himself some brandy and made his way carefully down the hall. He paused ever so slightly, trying to fein calm as he pushed open the door. More candles in here, framing Sherlock like a medieval painting on the bed. He was naked save for black silk briefs, velvet black cat ears and a tail he wiggled in his fingers. John licked his lips again as he watched those fingers, black-polished fingernails stark against Sherlock’s pale milky skin, glowing soft and diaphanous in the candle light. Sherlock’s eyes widened playfully, nibbling on his bottom lip as he looked at John through his eyelashes tainted with mascara. John’s erection was straining against his trousers just watching this. He was absolutely  _ perfect.  _

“Trick or treat, daddy,” Sherlock purred, flicking his tail around a bit. John only shook his head, crawling on top of him, knees on either side of his hips, straddling him down the middle. He ran his fingers across Sherlock’s clavicle, reaching up and grabbing a fistfull of midnight curls and whispering hot in his ear.

“You better know what you’re doing, kitten, teasing me like this,” John tsked and Sherlock shuddered, a dark smile spreading on John’s lips before he began attacking Sherlock’s neck with kisses and bites, nibbling on the delicate skin, hands moving down the nape of neck, his shoulders, finally gripping both of his wrists and pulling them over Sherlock’s head. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered closed as he let out a whine. “Those delicious little meows, such a sweet little boy, huh Sherlock?” Sherlock let out a breathy cry as John bit a little harder, leaving a purpling mark by his collarbone. John said a little more seriously, “do you want this, baby?” Sherlock nodded earnestly and John smiled. “Alright little one, put your arms on my shoulders,” Sherlock obeyed as daddy reached down and tugged the waistband of his pants down, down his thighs and his calves and off of his feet. There was something about this, John fully clothed down to the shoes and Sherlock completely naked that made his heart skip, endorphins shivering down his spine. 

Sherlock whispered, “d-addy,” and reached his chin out to kiss him. John tutted and pressed a firm hand in the center of his chest, easing him back down onto the bed, “steady, little one” John unbuttoned his shirt slowly, feeling Sherlock’s eyes trained to his every move. 

“Let’s take this slow, alright, baby?” John pulled his shirt off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor. He slipped his trousers down as well. Sherlock bit his lip at the sight of his daddy, muscles flexing, tanned skin glowing in the candle light. John settled back over Sherlock’s hips, gripping Sherlock’s face between his hands, fingers skimming over his ears, before leaning down and kissing Sherlock’s lips gently at first. Sherlock was slow to respond, shocked at the new sensation, the slight taste of strawberry jam and the flutter of his tummy. John pressed firmer into the kiss, taking Sherlock’s bottom lip between his teeth and gently biting, smiling at the helpless moan of his kitten. Sherlock’s hands grasped at John’s muscular thighs, pressing little finger-shaped marks into the skin there. John was happy to let Sherlock make his mark- John was just as much Sherlock as Sherlock was his. John sucked at Sherlock’s lip, barely letting go as he pulled away slowly, taking in the sight. Sherlock’s hair was already a curly mess, his skin flushed, lips swollen and puffy, his eyes squeezed shut. John rubbed a circle on Sherlock’s jaw with his thumb. 

“Do you want more, kitten?” John pulled a tuft of curls in his right fist, tugging clemently.

“Yes daddy, more, daddy” Sherlock whispered, eyes shut, nervousness churning in his tummy.

“Manners, sherlock.” John scolded firmly, pulling on his hair. A velvety moan escaped his throat. 

“P-please, daddy, p-please more,” John smiled and feigned ignorance. 

“More what, princess?”

“Please, daddy, fuck me, daddy,” Sherlock stammered, blushing furiously, pale skin glowing pink. John grinned and sat up a bit, lifting off of Sherlock and tapping his bare hip. 

“Turn around, baby, hands and knees” Sherlock obeyed, instantly flipping over, his little bum glowing pale, contrasted with John’s tanned fingers gripped around his hips. Sherlock shook like a leaf as he lifted himself onto his knees, and John placed a firm hand on the dip of Sherlock’s back to steady him. John opened the drawer of the night stand with his free hand and pulled out the bottle of lube, covering his finger in slick before placing the bottle down. He pet Sherlock’s back a bit to calm him before placing his finger at his entrance, enjoying the shiver beneath his hand as he rimmed him with slick, ever so slowly pressing his finger in. Sherlock strained at the intrusion, closing his eyes and trying to control his breathing. Daddy wouldn’t be impressed if he couldn’t even take one finger! Sherlock bit back a whimper as daddy pushed all the way in. Daddy began to stretch him, pushing a second finger in. Sherlock swore he was being ripped in half. The pain was so harsh. His eyes filled with tears but he willed himself to stay quiet, to try and enjoy this. He needed to please daddy, show him what a good boy he was. Good boys could take it. His erection was flagging at the unpleasant nervousness in his gut. 

Suddenly John pushed a third finger in and Sherlock broke- he wailed at the burning, splitting pain that shuddered through his whole body. 

“S-stop!” He cried, and John instantly stopped moving, pulling out slowly, carefully, reaching out to brush Sherlock’s hair behind his ears, finding his cheeks soaked with silent tears, whimpering softly. 

“Yellow or red love?” John said gently in his ear, still petting his hair softly. “Either is fine, princess.” Sherlock sniffled and choked back a sob. 

“R-red,” he whimpered dejectedly, tears flowing in shame. Daddy immediately turned his shoulders around and pulled him into a gentle embrace. Sherlock’s legs wrapped around his middle, and John rocked him slowly. Sherlock tucked his nose into daddy’s neck, sniffling softly. John shushed him tenderly, stroking his curls, tracing them across his forehead intently. Sherlock closed his eyes and breathed in daddy’s comforting scent, his cat ear headband tumbling to the floor. “I-I’m s-sorry, daddy, so sorry.” 

“No need to be, little one,” John planted a soft kiss on Sherlock’s head, breathing in the soft scent of his baby boy- coffee and mint and a hint of chemicals, and he smiled. What a sweet, kind little boy. Sherlock continued to cry softly. John rubbed soft circles in his back. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up and dressed, baby, then we’ll talk about this.” Sherlock shook his head quickly, looking up to see his daddy, mascara running down his face. 

“No, daddy, I’m sorry, I can do this daddy, please.” John shook his head firmly, giving Sherlock a stern look. His libido was begging him to take Sherlock at his offer, but he scolded himself and kept his cool.

“Sherlock,  _ no _ .” John put his arm under Sherlock and picked him up, Sherlock’s tears back as they headed for the bath. John fiddled with the taps before placing Sherlock into the warm water, squirting the remainder of Sherlock’s bubble bath into the water and frothing it with his hand. Bubble baths had become a staple in calming and affirming Sherlock’s little side. Sherlock pulled his knees to his chest, leaning his cheek against his arm, eyes hazy and soft with fresh tears. John sighed, sudsing up a flannel, rubbing it gently across Sherlock’s back and shoulders. Sherlock’s sniffles eventually slowed down as he began to play with the bubbles, shaping them into mountains floating on the water as John washed his neck and chest. “Close your eyes love,” John lulled, and Sherlock obeyed, John gently wiping his eyelids clean, as if he were the most delicate thing in the world. John cupped some water and rinsed his face, adoring how cute Sherlock was, puffing his cheeks and holding his breath. Once Sherlock was clean and calm, John fetched his towel and dried him off. He pulled Sherlock into his pyjama bottoms and pulled one of his own undershirts over Sherlock’s outstretched arms. Once dressed, Sherlock’s cheek collapsed against John’s shoulder, letting out an exhausted sigh. Even if they didn’t get to fuck tonight, John was pleased that Sherlock was calm enough to have slipped under. It was a good sign that things would be alright once they worked this out. John carried Sherlock, their fronts pressed together, Sherlock’s legs wrapped around him and his ankles linked. John carried Sherlock to the sitting room, placing him gently on the couch and kneeling in front of him. 

“I have a present for you, love, I was saving it for our shopping trip this weekend, but I think you’ve earned it early.” John planted a kiss on his forehead before reaching behind the sofa and pulling out a fluffy stuffed honey bee, with silvery fabric wings and six velvety legs. Sherlock gasped, holding it in his hands like it was made of gold. He looked at John with wide, unbelieving eyes before hugging it tightly to his chest, tucking his head around it, squeezing his new friend. “Now I’ll be right back, okay? You lads get acquainted.”

“Lass,” Sherlock whispered, eyes locked on the stuffed insect. “Honey bees are all girls except for the drones, but they can’t fly” John grinned and pressed another kiss on Sherlock’s cheek.

“That’s my smart boy.” Sherlock blushed, continuing to mindlessly play with his new toy. John quickly blew out the candles still burning and grabbed a quilt from the closet. He returned to find Sherlock mumbling a little story about the bee, moving it about in the air and buzzing. His heart filled with pride as he wrapped the quilt around his little boy’s shoulders. John sat in his armchair across from Sherlock, licking his lip nervously before broaching the subject. “Sherlock, why did you want to keep going after you coloured?” The younger boy's cheeks flushed crimson and he could hear his heart beat in his cheeks. Didn’t daddy  _ want  _ to have sex with him? Sherlock paused before whispering,

“Don’t like disappointing you, sir.” Anger began to bubble in John’s gut, his teeth grinding and his fists clenched. How horrible of a daddy was he that Sherlock was scared to colour because he didn’t want to  _ disappoint him _ ? 

“Sherlock, I will never be disappointed in you because you don’t want something, or something is too fast for you. We took things further than we’ve been before, that’s all, nothing wrong in wanting to slow down,” John scootched his chair closer and brushed his fingers across Sherlock’s bleary cheeks.

“But I’m _so slow,_ daddy! You’re so good at this, I don’t want to let you down,” Sherlock looked down despondently, rubbing an invisible spot on the floor with his toe. 

“Having limits and learning yourself is not letting me down, baby,” John whispered softly, “In fact, I’m quite proud of what you did tonight.” Sherlock’s eyes shot up, wide and shocked, mouth slightly open. 

“Proud...proud of what, sir?”

“You were very brave to be honest with me, to tell me it was too much. First times are difficult, love, you did exactly what I asked you to. I’m so very proud of you for trusting me, and for telling me the truth, kitten, I’m quite, quite proud.”

Sherlock bit his lip before clambering into his daddy’s lap, eliciting a deep chuckle and a hand holding his hip. Sherlock held tightly to his bee and leant against his daddy’s chest. 

“Did you name her yet, love?” 

“Mellifera.” John raised an eyebrow, and Sherlock quickly explained, “Apis Mellifera, european honey bee.” John smiled and took one of her legs in his hand, shaking it firmly. Sherlock giggled and blushed. 

“Lovely to meet you, Melly,” He said in his poshest voice, sending Sherlock into a giggling fit, gripping his tummy and pressing his forehead against John’s chest. John sighed and rubbed Sherlock’s back. He couldn’t imagine being any happier than he was now.

**Author's Note:**

> poor sherlock, pushing himself too far too fast :(  
> I'm really not a smut writer, but i did my best...love any comments or suggestions


End file.
